


Wings Upon the Hanover Skies

by BrowncoatA



Series: Eos: The Ship and Crew [1]
Category: Firefly
Genre: Angst, Because Lilliana has gone through some heavy shit, Captain speaks in Sign, Firefly inspired, Gen, Hanover class, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I almost wanna "slice of life" it but idk if that counts, Maybe Eventual Relationships, Mute Captain, Possibly Serenity crew will get involved? At a later date?, Rating is mostly for language and will probably change, The Verse, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8258729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrowncoatA/pseuds/BrowncoatA
Summary: Lilliana Simmons has never fought in a war, but her life has been hellish thanks to one nonetheless. Now, 7 years after the war ended in 2511, she has to make her own. With no family, no stability, and no safety, she tries to make her way in her transport ship, a Hanover class called Eos, while trying to piece together some sort of consistency and some sort of home. A series that takes place in the Verse, but with original characters. Please excuse Author's poor summary skills.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I first want to apologize because I know mostly nothing about anything and I really have to hope that this turns out okay. Ive been involved with the fandom mostly from afar, so im probably mucking up so much.
> 
> Initially I wrote the concept of Lilliana as a character for a Firefly RPG game I wanted to host, but I got really attached to her story and never started the campaign. This is the result. Hopefully this will turn out okay.

The storage bay floor of Eos felt cool on her feet, the walls slightly cooler. Not cold or frozen like the empty space just a foot from her fingertips, but a comforting, calm coolness. Sterile, but not harsh on her memory. The lights above cast a warm, golden glow upon the crates, creating strict lines to the otherwise dark silhouettes of their cargo. She let her toes stick to the metal floor as she paced, a reminder that although she was surrounded by endless sky heading into an even deeper void of unknown potential...she was still grounded. She was home. This ship was old, very old, but from the outside you wouldn’t be able to tell. Well cared for, and in perfect condition. Inside, well...some places may be held together with duct tape, mashing old and new parts together, but at the very least she was reliable. Her fingers dragged across the walls of the ship, tracing the pattern of bolted sheet metal, gracefully gliding over the boxes of her latest job, one she prefered to not take but knew there was no way to avoid it.

With the remainder of the crew asleep, herself on guard duty, Lilliana Simmons could allow herself some sort of peace during an otherwise stressful job. One Week, She thought. One week precisely to drop off these wares. Any later, even an hour, and we are blacklisted...and unpaid. It was, as she put it, a bullshit job. But if they were successful, and they HAD to be successful, then they would be ‘good’. ‘Solid’. Not necessarily by Niska, no one here gave a real shit about him. He wasn’t worth the trouble and energy. No, she was more concerned with future plans. She was more concerned with keeping the Alliance off her crew’s backs, not having to take jobs from them and focusing on helping the good of the five systems. The government could go entirely down, and she would be right there to help...for a fee. But unfortunately, for anyone to take her help, for her to earn a living for the crew, she needed a winning reputation first. And that’s where Niska comes in. 

As awful as that man was, he was like the mafia leader of the black market trade system, the godfather if you will. If you were good with the worst of the worst, you were...well...debatably good with everyone. Some folks had their morals, naturally, and normally she would agree. But for the most part, knowing you would give up morals to get a job done is a pretty good sign that you will get their job done too. And in a timely manner. If it got you a job, if it got you paid...well....this woman was in no position to refuse.

She recalls meeting Niska for the first time, the only time in fact. He was respectful, but disliked that her translator came with her. However, as he didn’t even understand the most basic International Sign (IS), let alone Pidgin Signed English (PSE, her prefered form of sign), there was no room for debate. Still, he said

“Lilliana, my sweet, why do you let this man speak for you?”

To which she replied, in sign, translated by her best friend and second in command Normusa Petrovavich,

“I speak fine, and I speak to you. She is here to make sure I am understood”.  
The response was accepted, although there was clear annoyance through the room for the remainder of the meeting. However, beyond that the job was simple. They had one week to deliver about a dozen medium sized mysterious boxes to a checkpoint on Dyton, and then leave immediately. No looking at the content, no missing boxes, no getting caught. And then they would be “solid”. 

Something told her that the word “solid” would be banned from the ship after this job.  
Lilliana assumed that whatever was in those boxes would be transported to Greenleaf, somehow. Perhaps another set of traders, those with more skill and better navigation of Greenleaf’s jungles, would bring them in. Didn’t matter to her, they were already getting too close to some risky business. Next time they were transporting people, doing innocent work, going stress free for some time. And if the Alliance caught them after this...well, she reckoned that PR could talk our way out of being arrested. If not, they would find a way. They always did. She always did.

This was 5 days ago. They were moving at a steady pace. They had 2 days, and everyone was feeling the pressure. Lilli had not slept properly the past several days, and the rest of the crew seemed on edge as well. Li Jiu, pilot, and her younger sister Li Lan were overheard talking about what to do if they were caught with what were presumably highly illegal transport. Thomas Potter, co-pilot, had a falter in his usual ego-filled banter. Charity Courtright, engineer, was often found in the engine room making sure that they were as silent as a mouse, undetectable, just in case anything went wrong. Normusa frequently went over the plan with Lilli, as if it had changed in the past couple of hours. Defenseman Malik Nielsen and PR Zhou Ping frequently bickered over what to do if they were caught, while medic Judith Young visibly got more and more nervous about the number of injuries she would have to try and heal if that were the case.

The only permanent resident not on board was Ophelia Stuart. A friend of Charity, she was a registered companion who resided in one of the pods, Athena, and had left the moment they took the job. She said it was for safety and to make some money elsewhere. Lilliana didn’t blame her if it was also out of fear. If she hadn’t lived the life she did, she would do the same. She wasn’t necessarily a part of the crew, she was a lot like Lan. She lived with the crew, she was a friend, she paid rent and helped around, but she was only associated with the people there, never the jobs. It was a mutual agreement all around. It also helped to have some folks with Alliance creds around, just in case things were really mucked up. They had a few, most importantly Ping. Public relations was a valuable position to have, and being able to reason with Alliance members was a must. Its not like Lilliana could.

She silently started walking back towards her room, deciding that if she was to be awake she might as well be doing something productive. She hadn’t decided if this ‘productive’ was a ‘continue researching what you can about the entire Red Sun system because if you dont you might die’ or a ‘read something so you don’t have a panic attack at the thought of being recaptured’ sort of thing, but she figured she would gravitate towards a book and whatever she picked up would solve that mystery. She had decided a while ago that she was very fortunate to have such a well functioning crew, and that they were all willing to learn sign language and work for her. Even better, no one had pried her for why she couldn’t speak. Most people knew there was an accident. Dr Young knew that there was brain damage (she had actually taken a look when they first met, she gave the official diagnosis of “Aphasia in the Broca’s area”, although the world was honestly fine with the unofficial ‘Brain Damage’ in Lilli’s mind) but said that she could wait on her story. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t write well...she could draw plans and sign and hear, but communicating was a chore if someone couldn’t at least read her. She felt useless and helpless and hopeless without her...family? Were they family to her, her crew? She hadn’t had family in so long. She trusted them, at least to an extent. She gave and received respect. They shared meals together, they bonded, most told their secrets to each other...but did that all count? Is family really more than blood?

She paused by the engine room, hearing something crash and someone cry out. Quietly, she made her way towards the noise, finding Charity muttering under her breath about the “gorram hunk of metal”. Knocking on the doorframe caught her attention.

“Ah! Hey Captain, what in the world are you doing up?” she asked, hurrying to her feet and holding a cloth to her hand.

‘Was just heading to bed’ Lilli replied, eyeing the cloth. ‘Need some help? Did something break?’

“Nah. I was tightening some bolts when I dropped my wrench, and I got my hand when I tried to catch it” Charity explained. “I’ve got some wraps up here, I’ll be fine”.

‘Sit. I’ll wrap it.’

Knowing there was no use putting up a fight, Charity quickly grabbed the first aid kit and sat down on a step by her captain. Lilliana carefully took the injured hand and began spraying antibacterial disinfectant on the cut, quickly snatching her retreating wrist as the sting hit Charity. As she cleaned and bandaged her mechanic’s hand, Charity piped up.

“Why do we always end up like this? Me doing something stupid and you swooping in to save my sorry ass and fix me up?”

Lilliana looked up to show she was listening and encourage her to go on.

“Honestly, It’s like when we first met…”

**Author's Note:**

> Iffy cutoff, i know, but I hope y'all liked it so far? Please let me know how i can improve <3
> 
> Im going to post as often as I can, hopefully once a week.


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